Seized by the Sheik

by Ann Voss Peterson

  Efraim said nothing. His fingers were lightning fast on the keys, and Callie remembered that although he had experience in the military years ago, cybersecurity and encryption was where his true expertise lay. It was why his father had turned over control of Nadar to him, even though the elder Aziz was still young and healthy enough to be more than the ceremonial figurehead he was.

  Efraim was to usher his country into the modern age. And part of the pact among the island nations would help develop the infrastructure for such an endeavor, financed by profits from the oil leases off their shores.

  Callie leaned back in her chair, letting the softness envelop her, the leather scent wrap around her. The tap of computer keys calmed her, as effective as a lullaby. If she was going to drive all the way back to the Seven M before dawn, she’d better get moving. Otherwise she was going to pass out here in the chair. Better than on the road.

  The pickup.

  She almost groaned. Russ’s pickup was still in the diner’s parking lot. And without it, she had no way to get back to the ranch. Not without calling her family or asking Efraim to give her a ride.

  “It’s not here.”

  She sat up, her fatigue slipping away as adrenaline she didn’t know she still had spilled into her bloodstream. “It has to be.”

  “No, it’s not.” Efraim turned to look at Kateb. “There are no audio files in any of the material I downloaded.”

  The man’s shoulders slumped. His arms hung useless by his sides. “Then he erased it.”

  Callie shook her head. She wasn’t following. Not at all. “Erased it? Fahad? Why would he do that?”

  Efraim stared at Kateb, waiting for his answer to Callie’s question.

  “Because he was seeing Tanya, too. I can only assume he was on the recording. And that he wasn’t proud of what he was doing.”

  Callie still didn’t see it. “We found the matchbook lying on his desk. If he was so ashamed of his fling with Tanya that he erased all the surveillance recordings, why would he keep her number lying around?”

  “That’s a good question,” Efraim said, still watching Kateb.

  “You don’t believe me.”

  “I’m still figuring that out.”

  Kateb closed his eyes. “I gave the recordings to Fahad. If they aren’t there and my laptop isn’t there, then I can only conclude that Fahad was trying to cover his embarrassment. Pillow talk. Just as I feared.”

  Efraim shook his head and raked a hand through his hair. “I can’t accept that. Not at face value.”

  “You don’t trust me.”

  Efraim said nothing, letting the intensity in his dark eyes speak for him.

  “You don’t trust me. Your blood. Your countryman. And yet you trust her?” He shot a look at Callie that spoke pure hatred.

  She tried not to fold back into the chair to get away from it.

  “Callie has earned my trust.”

  “Really?” Kateb’s voice cut with a hard edge. “And did she tell you that she and I have something in common?”

  Efraim narrowed his eyes on his cousin.

  “Yes.” That smile again, cunning, mean, as if he was just about to twist the knife and was imagining how good the act would feel. “We have more in common than you know.”

  Callie had no idea why this man hated her so much, just as she had no clue where Fahad’s curses had come from. But whatever it was, she wanted to know. At least then she could face it head-on. She set her chin. “What are you talking about?”

  “I told you I heard some of the recordings. The early ones. Conversations. Trysts that Tanya had with other men.” His voice was bitter, angry, but the emotion wasn’t pointed at Tanya. It wasn’t coming from jealousy. His hatred was focused precisely on Callie.

  She crossed her arms across her chest but forced herself to hold his gaze.

  “What are you trying to say, Kateb?” Efraim did not look pleased with his man, but somehow that didn’t make Callie feel much better. She waited for Kateb to go on, her stomach so tight that it ached.

  “What am I trying to say? That Tanya didn’t only take my brother into her bed, she also took her brother.” He glared at Callie. “Why don’t you ask her what happened to those files, that computer. Why don’t you consider that she might be trying to protect her brother. Or even herself?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Is it true?” Efraim sat in the chair next to Callie’s and looked straight into her eyes. He had ushered Kateb out of the suite and ordered him to stay in his room. He didn’t know if he should believe the man or not. But he did know he wanted to believe Callie. And whatever she had to say, he needed to hear it.

  “I just found out tonight.”

  He frowned. On some level, he’d been hoping Kateb had made the whole accusation up out of the air. It was disgraceful, hoping for deceit from his cousin, his blood, all to let him continue to believe in a woman who wasn’t even from Nadar. Yet at that moment, he would give almost anything for Callie to explain everything away. To fall in his arms. To kiss him. To make love in front of the fire.

  He still didn’t think that Fahad was right about Callie trying to deceive him. But he was beginning to believe Darek was dead-on when he feared Efraim might want to deceive himself. “What did you find out tonight?”

  “My brother Russ. He was involved with Tanya, too.”

  So it was true, then. At least that much of it. “Involved, how?”

  “He met her at the Tumbledown Tavern about two weeks ago. He’s seen her several times since then.”

  “Did he know she was working with Russian organized crime?”

  “No. I mean, I don’t know. I just found out he knew her tonight. I haven’t gotten the chance to ask him.”

  “When did you learn this?”

  She licked her lips, obviously uncomfortable. She lowered her gaze.

  A weight descended on Efraim’s chest. “You chose not to tell me.”

  She raised her gaze once more, meeting his eyes. “Brent told me at the Tumbledown. I asked if he knew Tanya, and he said Russ had dated her.”

  Efraim looked away. One more minute of gazing into her eyes and he would be willing to believe anything she said. And forgive anything she’d kept from him. He focused on the stone fireplace. “Your brother Brent. He’s the former soldier, right? He is with the protesters?”

  “Yes.”

  A cold image formed in his mind. “He is good with a rifle.”

  “He didn’t shoot Fahad.”

  “He hates my people. He knows the land. He has the weapons and the skill to use them.”

  “But he didn’t do it.”

  “How are you so sure?”

  She looked down at her hands, twined in her lap. “He said if he wanted you dead, you would be. And he’s right. He was an expert marksman. If he was the one who fired that second shot, he never would have missed. But that’s not all. As much as he talks, I just can’t see him ever committing violence like that. He saw too much of that in Afghanistan. I think that really changed him, coming face-to-face with the horrors that fear and violence can cause. I think that’s part of his problem now. He’s changed. He wants to prevent violence more than perpetrate it. Not that he’d admit it. Along with the seizures and nightmares, he’s afraid that makes him weak.”

  Efraim nodded. He had to admit it made a strange sort of sense. It was easy to lust for blood if you’d never really seen blood spilled. That was one difference between his brother and him. He’d served in the military. He’d seen the pain violence caused. His brother Faraj hadn’t, and he thirsted for the satisfaction he believed violence would bring. He thought strength was about hurting others. He didn’t understand that people committed violence out of weakness and fear, not strength. “Your brother Russ? Working with the Russian mob?”

  She shook her head. “No, I can’t see it. My family, they would hate Russians every bit as much as…”

  “They hate me?”

  “Yes. That’s why I didn’t t
ell you, I guess.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I should have. I just didn’t want you to jump to conclusions.”

  “You wanted to defend your brother.”

  “I wanted you to see him for who he really is. Just like I want him to see you.”

  He let out a heavy breath. Hadn’t he recognized her family in himself while sitting in Mercy and George’s kitchen? Maybe she was right. Maybe they were more alike than different. All bound by their fears. Could it be that simple? He wished he knew. “Your father?”

  “Did he shoot Fahad? No. Never. Dad’s a softy, although don’t tell him I said that. He isn’t even that good with a rifle.”

  “Your other brother?”

  “Joe?” A smile curved the corners of her lips. “Joe is a schoolteacher. He would never go along with some xenophobic protesters’ agenda.”

  “So he’s like you?”

  Her smile widened. It was one of the most beautiful sights he’d ever seen. “I suppose. He and my youngest brother are the most like me. The most like my mom.”

  He watched her for a moment without speaking. She held his gaze, her chin lifted and firm. But her eyes looked at him with softness, not challenge. She recognized her family’s faults, but she defended them all the same. With all their differences, they were close.

  Much closer than he and his family.

  Suddenly he wanted to know all about her, how she grew up, what it was like to have a family who was close, what her life on the ranch was like. Everything. But most of all, he wanted to know about her. And he had an idea where to start. “Your mother. What was she like?”

  “Expansive. Accepting. She loved the ranching life and America but was accepting of other points of view and eager to learn about the rest of the world.” She raised her eyes. The blue shimmered with tears that didn’t roll down her cheeks. She offered a shaky smile. “My dad always said her love was proof that he had a good heart.”

  Efraim nodded. As much as he wanted to hate these people, turn the blame of Fahad’s death on them, latch on to the same easy answers that Kateb had grabbed, he couldn’t. Not when he saw them through Callie’s eyes. “Your mother must have been extraordinary.”

  “She was.” She blinked and tears spiked her lashes. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you right away. About Russ, I mean. And there’s something else.”

  He wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear more, but he forced himself to ask. Best to get everything out in the open. Then he knew what he was looking at. Then he could find a way to move forward. “What else?”

  “Fahad, before he died…” Her voice faltered and faded. She took a deep breath and gripped the arms of the leather chair. “He accused me of manipulating you, of using you.”

  Efraim would like to feel surprised, but he wasn’t. After all Fahad had said to Darek, he knew how his cousin felt. And even more strongly, he knew Callie didn’t deserve it. “Forget his words, Callie. I’m sorry he said them, and I know they are not true.”

  She looked up at him with those big eyes and spiked lashes, as if she wasn’t sure she fully believed what he’d said.

  It was important to him that she believe. “I trust you, Callie. I want you to feel you can trust me. Next time I want you to know you can tell me anything, and I will accept it.”

  She smiled and the whole world seemed to be a brighter place. “I have a bad habit of trying to smooth things over before a rift even has a chance to begin.”

  “You’re good at your job.”

  She shook her head. Her smile fluttered but held, only this time she looked a little sad. “This has stopped being about my job.” Again she looked down at her hands.

  He stepped closer to her chair. Taking her hand, he pulled her up to him. “What do you mean, stopped being about your job?”

  She shook her head, still not meeting his eyes even though her body was only inches from his. “I just want so many things. For my family. For my country. For my world. And for myself.”

  He brought his hand to her jaw. Her skin was smooth as silk. He could spend eternity touching it and still not get enough. He tilted her face up and peered into her eyes.

  Blue as the sea surrounding Nadar. Blue as the field of stars on the American flag. “Wanting many things is not a reason to feel ashamed.”

  “It is when those things are not possible. It’s silly then to hope and want what can never come true.”

  “What is it that you want?” As soon as the words left his lips, he knew that whatever it was, he wanted to give it to her.

  She glanced away from him, suddenly unsure. “Right now, a hot shower.”

  He thought about the two of them twined together, water and soap bubbles sluicing down their bodies. He would give her that. And more. But there was something he had to know first. Something he had to hear from her lips. “Your family. Do you trust them?”

  She didn’t hesitate. “With everything.”

  “Then I will trust them, too.” He cupped his hand around the back of her neck and tilted her face up to meet him. He lowered his mouth to hers, lips taking, claiming.

  The sweetness of her kiss once again pulled at him, and this time, he let it take him. He was no virgin. At thirty-eight and a prince, he’d experienced his share of women. But with Callie, it was different. Each caress of her lips brought him deeper. Each stroke of her tongue made him need more. He wanted to devour her, to make her part of himself. He simply couldn’t get enough.

  He skimmed his hands down her body. His fingers trembled, as if he was a boy, as if this was his first time. He grasped the hem of her T-shirt and whisked the cotton up her sides.

  She released him, parting only for a moment to help him shuck the shirt over her head and arms. She wore no bra under Mercy’s T-shirt, and he drank in the sight of her. Then her lips were back, tempting him, teasing him, making need shiver down his spine and heat pool in his groin.

  He moved his hands down over her shoulders, over her back. He settled his hands on her waist and pulled her tight, fitting her to him.

  He needed her to be naked. He needed to feel all of her, to be inside her.

  As if sensing his thoughts, she moved her hands between them. Her fingers worked quickly on the buttons of the boxy flannel shirt. Soon the stiff fabric parted and the soft warmth of her breasts pressed against his chest.

  He let out a shuddering breath. He littered kisses down the side of her neck and nuzzled against her.

  “Do I smell like creek water?”

  “You smell delicious.”

  “I feel like I smell like creek water.”

  He laughed. They probably both did, but he couldn’t care less. To him, she smelled perfect, alluring. Maybe it was because he shared the creek smell, but all he could detect was the smell of her skin. And that scent made him want her all the more. “Then let’s get you in that shower.”

  He led her to the bathroom. They stripped off the rest of their borrowed clothes, the bruises over his ribs inspiring concern from Callie.

  Getting her naked was a different story. She didn’t inspire concern. She inspired pure, shaking need.

  The resort’s shower was luxurious, but it hadn’t struck him how sexy it was until now. A bench rimmed one side of the spacious stone enclosure. Rainlike drops cascaded from multiple showerheads. And the skylight and window overlooking mountains and stars fading into pink sunrise made it feel as if they were part of nature.

  It was nice, he had to admit. But all he really needed was Callie.

  They slipped under the spray. Water rained down, darkening Callie’s hair to light caramel.

  He found the shampoo and poured some into his hands. He smoothed it into Callie’s wet hair. The scent of jasmine infused the steam. He massaged her scalp then moved his hands down over her shoulders to her breasts.

  She washed his hair, as well. She lathered his body, fingers stoking his need for her.

  His body was ready to take her. He’d been ready since he first tasted her kiss. And now seeing her na
ked, touching her, reveling in the heat of the water and slick, fragrant soap…it was almost more than he could endure.

  She moved her hands down his chest and wrapped her fingers around his length. The stroke of her hands nearly sent him over the edge. Grinding his teeth together, he fitted her back against the stone wall and nudged her thighs apart with his knees.

  She leaned back, legs open for him. Lips parted, she watched him through hungry eyes. Soap from her hair ran over her breasts, swirling around each nipple. Water cascaded over her flat belly in sheets, coalescing into a waterfall between her open legs.

  Hands still around him, she pulled him toward her in ever-more urgent strokes until his tip was poised, ready to enter. She lowered her eyes, watching her hands tease him until he couldn’t take it anymore.

  “Look at me.” His voice was gruff, almost guttural. “I want to see your eyes when I enter…and I want you to see me.”

  Her lashes fluttered. Her eyes lifted and he seized her gaze. They were so clear that he felt like he could see into her, the very heart of her, and lay bare all her thoughts, her feelings.

  And for the first time in his life, he wanted a woman to see him in the same way. His thoughts. His feelings. His fears. And when he pushed into her, sinking into her warmth, losing himself in her eyes, he knew he’d found what he wanted.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Callie snuggled in Efraim’s arms, her cheek pressed against his rib cage, the steady thunk of his heart loud in her ear. The sun must have been up for hours now. Its rays streamed through the shuttered windows. Its height in the sky suggested midmorning. Birds chattered outside the window.

  “It’s morning.” Efraim’s voice rumbled in his chest. He smoothed his hand over her hair.

  She smiled. When they’d collapsed into bed, their hair had still been wet from the shower. She could just imagine the kinks her straight hair had taken as it dried. Knowing Efraim, his dark hair was probably lying perfect.

  She raised her head and met his eyes.

  His hair was close to perfection, just a few added waves. His cheeks and chin were dark with stubble. Where he was always handsome, he now looked rakish. Downright hot. And despite engaging in much lovemaking and little sleep, she felt that warm hunger for him growing inside her.